Gearbound: Cyberpunk 2077

Leo could already afford a 40,000-euro-per-month apartment, yet he was still crammed into his mother's garage, unchanged.

Leo's rapid ascent to wealth had only deepened Jack's resolve in secret. He had vowed to take on big jobs and earn big money, so as to change his destiny—and to ensure that he, Misty, and his mother could soon live in a place like this.

At that moment, the speaker in the apartment suddenly emitted the receptionist's formulaic, cold voice:

"Dear guests currently viewing the twelfth floor, your visiting time had nearly reached half an hour. If you do not intend to pay, please take the elevator down in order. If you wish to continue staying, you will need to pay again. Thank you for your cooperation."

"This apartment is mine; I'll transfer the money now," Leo declared.

Immediately, the receptionist's tone softened to something akin to a warm spring breeze:

"Thank you for your payment, Mr. Leo. Your temporary access permissions have been changed to resident privileges. During your stay in this apartment, should you encounter any issues, please report them to the reception desk and we will do our utmost to assist you."

"Friendly reminder: monthly rent payments must be made by the eighth day of each month. To avoid any unnecessary unpleasantness, please be sure to make your payment before the eighth."

"All staff at Simple Properties wish you a pleasant life. Goodbye."

Leo called out, "Wait—please add access permissions for my two friends as well. They should be able to come over at any time."

"Very well, Mr. Leo. Please wait a moment while we process that," the voice responded.

Jackie beamed and gave Leo a light punch on the shoulder. "Now that's what I call a friend."

"Of course—I wasn't just being polite with you. Jack, since you love drinking so much, all the wine in that cabinet is for you and V."

"And what about you?" Jackie asked.

"You know I don't like to drink," Leo replied.

"Then you're really not holding back, ha ha ha—" Jack's eyes lit up, and he practically set off to grab some wine immediately. Seeing him so intent on drinking until he was drunk took Leo, who never touched alcohol, completely by surprise.

"Hey, hey, hey, but don't drink too much at once."

"Don't worry. If I spill on your floor, I'll clean it up," Jackie retorted.

"No—the floor was the least of my worries. I'm just afraid that Mrs. Wells will get mad if she finds out I let you drink too much," Leo cautioned.

Without turning back, Jackie waved dismissively. Leo was left speechless—did Jack's wave mean he understood, or was it meant to reassure him?

Jackie then took a bottle from the wine cabinet and poured himself a full glass. His intoxicated look, so unlike Leo's sober nature, made it impossible for him to understand why Jackie was so obsessed with alcohol.

"Um, Leo," V began hesitantly, her cherry lips parting as if she had something on her mind. She seemed worried—as though trouble was brewing and she wanted to ask Leo for help, yet felt too shy to speak up.

"This doesn't seem like you, V. Don't you know that if you ever encounter any difficulties, you can just tell me?" Leo urged gently.

"Mm," V nodded. After a moment's hesitation, she said, "I was just wondering... could I possibly borrow some money?"

V struggled to find the right words. "It's not that I look down on Jack, but... you know, living in the garage is just—well..."

She didn't know how to continue, for no matter how she phrased it, it all felt a bit off. V only managed to start, and Leo immediately understood.

Even when the three of them had been crammed into the garage, Leo had sensed V's discomfort. That was why he had asked Jackie to help him find an apartment. And when V saw the apartment Jackie had found, she too wanted to move out—something Leo completely understood, especially given that V was a woman and deserved better.

Without a second thought, the tactical sight on Leo's visor flared with golden light, and moments later, 300,000 euros were credited to V's account.

"Wait, so much? I—I don't need that much... I can't accept it," V stammered, scrambling to transfer the money back to Leo.

But Leo refused. He was now collaborating with Padre, earning tens of thousands daily by crafting technical weapons. A mere 300,000 euros was nothing to him.

"Get yourself a nicer apartment, live comfortably, and take it easy. In this City, life is hard enough already—don't settle for less than you deserve." Leo recalled how V and Jackie had shown concern and offered kind words when he was developing the AR glasses. With friends like these, he thought, even a few hundred thousand euros—or even a million—could never compare.

Meanwhile, Jackie had already downed several drinks. He swirled his bottle and said, "This wine is really something, Leo, V—don't you want to taste it?"

Leo moved forward and patted V's arm, which was still in a daze. "Come on, let's go. Don't overthink it. Besides, we need to keep an eye on Jackie so he doesn't drink all the wine by himself. Mrs. Wells definitely wouldn't let that slide."

...

The next day, in an apartment building somewhere in Watson District, Max Jones hummed the theme from Tom and Jerry as he selected his favorite tie from the wardrobe and put it on. After washing up, having breakfast, and leaving his home, he got into his car, ready to head out. Suddenly, he received a call from an unknown number.

Max hesitated for a moment, then chose to answer. A gruff, unfamiliar voice said, "Max Jones?"

"This is he. Who is this?" Max replied.

"My name is Esteban Ramirez. I heard you're a real journalist—someone who writes with integrity, isn't afraid of danger, and sticks to his principles. I need someone like you," the voice explained.

As a journalist, Max's news instincts were sharp. He couldn't help but feel the scent of a big story. An involuntary shiver ran down his spine.

"Hold on—this line isn't encrypted. It would be best if we met face-to-face; I'm worried the information might leak," Max suggested.

After a pause, he asked, "Is someone watching you?"

"They shouldn't be," came the reply. "Shouldn't be" wasn't a reassuring answer, and Max frowned.

After a moment's thought, he said, "Then let's meet this afternoon at Tom's Hotel."

The other party refused. "A crowded place isn't suitable. I have a better idea—I'll send you the coordinates."

...

At the same time, in Company Plaza at Arasaka Tower, within the counterintelligence department, someone reported, "Boss, we intercepted communications from the traitorous agent Esteban Ramirez."

"Who was he communicating with?" the supervisor demanded.

"With a journalist who specializes in exposing corporate secrets and scandals. They had made contact, but Esteban revealed nothing. They only arranged to meet this afternoon beneath an overpass in the northern industrial zone of the city."

"They say even the craftiest rabbit eventually runs out of hiding places," the supervisor mused. "I have already compiled a list of suitable field agents for the job."

"This time, we won't send in our field agents—send in the special assault team to eliminate Esteban and all witnesses," the order came.

...

..

.

When dawn broke, Leo awoke on the large bed in his apartment in the Valley district. Gone were the cramped confines of the garage and the stifling, suffocating air. It had been the most comfortable night he had slept since arriving in Night City. Yet for some reason, when he woke to find himself alone in that spacious room, a strange loneliness welled up inside him.

After washing up, Leo went downstairs and drove to the El Coyote Bar. He had intended to meet V and Jackie there. However, upon arriving, he was informed that V and Jackie had already left early that day.

"Do you know what they went to do?" asked Pepe, who stood behind the bar, shook his head.